i'm so tired to a point of unhappiness. like it's all not worth it. my spinal column feels like crumbling and i don't even have osteoporosis.
so i learned today that caring is painful too. the nagging question remains, "is all the sacrifice worth it?"
i've been genetically developed to pay my blood with obligations, been breastfed with indebtedness, to which i rebelled against countless times. but here i am, killing myself to provide for the family that barely raised me.
why is a typical filipino life story always marred with sacrifice? why don't we find worth/heroism in just being?
i love my family. but i want to love myself too. why can't i have both?
i am a confetti now. torn, ripped in more than a hundred ways. so much that i think i don't know myself anymore.
i am a confetti that gives in to pressure, floats to where the wind commands me to, can be stomped on anytime.
i've been torn, ripped, beaten in more than a hundred ways. i am flat on my face, and i am tired.